


Sacrifice

by makingitwork



Series: Bughead Prompts [57]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blasphemy, Character Study, F/M, FP-centric, I don't know, Sacrifice, bughead - Freeform, but he loses jughead bascially, fp gets taken to another universe, fp wants to be a good dad, gargoyle king, where everything is good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 06:17:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16738681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: The Gargoyle King gives FP the life he's always wanted.He wants just one thing in return.





	Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!

FP gets there just in time. 

He dismounts his motorbike viciously and it topples to the ground with the force of his movements. He doesn't give a damn. All he cares about is the group of Serpents all kneeling by the fire. He rushes over; crushing little blades of grass that have managed to grow in sporadic patches here and there on the dry earth, under his heavy boots. His eyes are wild, he  _feels_ wild, but it's hard not to. When you're in the middle of the dark forest on a full moon, and there's a group of people who look more like cult members than children all kneeling by a fire pit. 

He finds the Serpent he cares about most, and as soon as he does, his eyes stay fixed on him. 

Jughead, it's Jughead, it's  _his boy,_ kneeling there. FP draws in a ragged breath when he sees him. He's beaten, bruised, dried blood under his nose and and more scratches and cuts than FP can count. His beanie is still on though, thick with mud and the stitching coming apart on one side, but that damn beanie is still on and something twists in FP's heart and he's not sure if it's fondness or exasperation, but he's pretty sure that after being Jughead's dad for seventeen years, it's both. But those feelings are buried beneath the protective anger that's curling around his heart like barbed wire- tight and painful as he stands close enough that it gets their attention. 

They all look up at him in unison. 

There's a dead antelope lying beside the fire. Freshly killed if the lack of flies and maggots is anything to go by. There's a red arrow in it's head. FP tries not to look at it. "Jughead," he calls, looking into his son's green eyes as the reflection of the flames flicker in them. "What the hell is this?" He can't quite keep the waver of fear out of his tone.

Jughead doesn't move. He looks back with calmness. "The Gargoyle King came to us." He says simply, quietly, his hands resting flat on his knees. "We know what he wants." 

"We know what he wants." The other Serpents murmur. FP spares them a cursory glance. There's Cheryl, and Sweet Pea and Fangs and a few others he can't remember the names of. And there's Toni too- she's the one who called him. She's carefully not looking at him and he can understand that. Whatever this is, whatever is happening, she's not a part of it. She's still got her head about her. 

He swallows thickly. The Gargoyle King. This thing will never stop destroying his life, it seems. He should have left Riverdale back when he had the chance. He never should have raised his family here. "And what's that?" He yells; angry and confused, but also desperate to know because this this has been here forever, and if anyone has ever found a way to get rid of it, it would be Jughead.

Jughead and- FP frowns. He doesn't like that Betty isn't here. "He wants a sacrifice." Jughead says, a small smile on his face. He looks dazed, almost drunk- like he's under the influence, though FP knows he never would be. Not after how much he's seen his old man drink and what it can do. It's the game. It's the damn game, and now that he looks closer, he can see the blue on Jughead's lips. Anger roars inside him. He told him. He  _told_ him not to play that game. He bites back his anger for now, because Jughead is still talking. "He came to us in the woods. These woods. These holy, anointed woods, and told us what he wants. He is our protector."

"He is our protector." The other's whisper. FP notices that Toni does it at a slight delay. 

He already knows. He already knows before he has to ask because it could never be anyone else. "Who's the sacrifice?" Because he's not stupid enough for one second to think that it's the dead antelope. 

Jughead shrugs simply. "It's me, dad," he whispers. He doesn't sound scared. There's a clarity in his voice that sets all of FP's nerves right on edge. But he likes that Jughead calls him dad. That somewhere in the twisted mess his mind is, he knows who FP is. Even though he hasn't been much of a dad. Even though he's still too rough around the edges. "It was always going to be me. You've said so yourself: I'm the prodigal son. I thought it was Archie, we all did, but it's not Archie. It's me." He nods at Sweet Pea who rises and walks around the fire. FP watches curiously (and a little warily) as Sweet Pea reaches down to swipe his fingers through the Antelope's blood, before he comes over and Jughead looks up at him. FP watches with sick fascination as Sweet Pea draws the ruin of the Gargoyle King on Jughead's forehead.

This is sick. Everything about this is sick. 

Jughead continues: "All these quests, dad, he's always wanted me. It's an honour." The other Serpents nod. "Do you remember when I joined the Serpents? The final initiation- that was supposed to be my sacrifice, but it didn't work. Penny and the Ghoulies, that was him giving me another chance, but it still didn't work. You saved me. Drinking from the chalice, time after time, I keep not getting the poison. I keep failing, but he's devised a way. Praise him, for how smart he is. How wise and how tenacious." 

"Praise him." The Serpents chime. 

FP's beginning to shake. He's petrified and he watches his son in awed disbelief. Jughead stands slowly, the thick animal blood drips a little down his face but mostly keeps its shape. He's wearing his Serpent's jacket. He's wearing his flannel and his beanie. He's still  _Jughead._ "He will take me. I will be the sacrifice I was always meant to be. This is why mom didn't take me, she knew, she  _knew_ on some level that I needed to stay right here in Riverdale. Everything that's ever happened has led us to this moment. Praise him!"

"Praise him!" The Serpents weep rapturously. 

FP wants to cry. Gladys didn't take Jughead because she was a selfish idiot, and he's glad she's out of his life now. As much as he wishes he had Jellybean, he thinks he would have failed her the way he's failed Jughead. Being in prison whilst his son became a Serpent, letting him tip over into a life FP never wanted for him. He remembers- he'll always remember, finding his son twisted and broken on the ground. There had been so much blood. FP had screamed a scream that didn't sound human. It was a sound of grief and he'd fallen to the floor and checked desperately for a pulse and when he'd felt it- he'd scooped his son up into his arms and carried him all that way through the woods. Held him so tight to his chest he thought they could become one and he could protect him forever. 

He remembers crying as he'd sat beside his son in the hospital room. He remembers sobbing into his hands. FP doesn't have a lot in this world, and it's his own fault, but he has Jughead. His son is the best thing that's ever happened to him, and all FP ever does is repay him with disappointment. 

A low, terrible creaking sound is heard from just beyond the shrubbery. Cheryl makes a sound of excitement, and gets up too. She kisses Jughead's cheek and leaves her bright red imprint there before sitting back down. Toni meets FP's eyes; they're wide and petrified with worry. Jughead sighs like he's happy. "It's time," he murmurs, reaching out a hand towards FP. FP stares at it uncomprehendingly, and Jughead smiles. "Like Abraham and Isaac, dad. It would be an honour if you led me to him." 

FP takes his son's hand and doesn't budge an inch. He'll be damned if he loses his son again. He doesn't care if it is the Gargoyle King or fate or a hundred other things that are just wrong with Riverdale, he won't lose his son again. "Where's Betty?" He demands, shaking Jughead's arm a little. His boy frowns; eyebrows knitting together like the question doesn't really fit in his mind. "Where's your girl, Jug? Huh? Where is she?" 

"Betty..." when he says the same, something different lights in his eyes. Something more  _human_ and less husk. He shakes his head and it disappears and FP clenches his fingers into his son's palm more desperately. "Betty doesn't understand. She's not worthy." 

"Not worthy," the chorus behind him repeat.

"That's your girl, Jug," FP repeats. "You're gonna leave her here? Without you? Can't you see how that'll tear her up?"  _Tear me up?_ He wants to add, but he doesn't. 

Jughead looks a little more distressed now. He looks, for the first time, uncertain. "I..."

"You need to come home." He continues, harsher now. "Come home with me, and see Betty, and stop playing this game. You need to get cleaned up. You need to go to the hospital. I haven't seen you in  _days,_ Jughead. When was the last time you ate?" He's becoming more manic as he asks, because it's all slotting together. Jughead looks so skinny. Skinnier than normal. If FP were a little more involved, maybe all of this wouldn't have happened. Maybe he could have done something. "Please." He adds, voice choking up a little. He steps forward and tugs Jughead towards him, clasping his hand on the back of his son's neck and pressing their forehead's together. He can feel the warm, sticky blood of the animal pressing into his own skin, but he doesn't care. Because this is his son in his arms, and he's shaking. "Please come home."

Jughead looks torn. 

The woods creak again, more ominously this time. 

"This is better, dad," Jughead whispers, eyes hardening with resolution. "I'll be able to keep you and Betty and the rest of Riverdale safe if I do this. He'll leave once he has me. You'll all be safe, and the dark cloud that hangs over Riverdale will clear up and there will be sun."

"There will be sun." The Serpents cheer. 

Tears are burning down FP's face and he shakes his head. "No." He hisses in agony, because he's never going to let go. 

The woods creak gain and then out of the blur of twigs and trees and leaves, comes the King. FP's never seen him before, and yet he knows in his heart that he would always look like this. Immense, nonhuman, otherworldly. Maybe it's the devil himself. The King opens his arms, and Jughead tugs away from his dad to go to him.

FP's a king too. Or he was. He was the Serpent King before his son took the throne. And maybe Jughead does a better job than FP ever did, but FP reigned with loyalty in his heart and best interests always in mind for the group. He was a King once. He tightens his hold on his son and pulls him harder. Jughead stumbles a little, his gaze still fixed and adoring on the mass of evil in the distance. 

" _Let go."_ He hears the wind whisper. But he can't, he won't. Tears are blurring his vision. He doesn't see one of the Serpents get up. He does't see them pick up a log of wood. He only feels it collide with his head, and he feels the warmth of his son's hand disappear. He doesn't even have time to cry with grief. 

* * *

 

When FP wakes up, everything is wrong. 

He's in a grand double bed with white sheets and a stunning view of upper-Riverdale. He sits up with a jerk; gasping for breath, but all is silent as the early morning sunlight streams in through the window. He has no idea where he is. This room is huge, with shiny wardrobes and a huge television, and a sturdy desk with a fancy laptop on it. He staggers out of bed and into what he assumes is the bathroom. This room too, is huge and marble tiled and too expensive, and when he looks in the mirror he almost doesn't recognise who he sees.

It's him, but it's...it's not him. This FP has well-groomed stubble and thick hair. He's well built and there are none of the stress lines around his face. This FP looks...this FP looks happy. Healthy. Different. He's wearing flannel blue pyjamas that he would never wear in his life, and he races out of the room and into a cream hallway. Down the stairs and the oak bannister, Jughead's name tumbling off his lips. 

He's in the middle of screaming it, searching for a phone, when he halts to a stop in the kitchen. There's a girl sitting at the breakfast bar checking her phone and eating Lucky Charms. The kitchen is huge too, with a granite island and it etches out onto a patio separated by glass onto a lush green backyard. He stares, and the girl turns and smiles. 

She's wearing pyjamas too, and her hair is pink, and her eyes are the same green as Jughead's. 

"Jellybean?" He whispers in disbelief, walking towards her slowly and not blinking because he's afraid she'll disappear. 

She snorts, crunching into her cereal. "I told you to call me JB, dad," she grumbles and he stops before her, just staring. It's JB alright. Older than he's ever seen her- she must be twelve, the age she would be in his- in his actual reality, but he hasn't seen her for so long. She's got his eyes, just like Jughead did, and she's wearing a pink knit beanie in the shape of a crown and FP wants to cry all over again. 

He reaches out to touch her shoulders. She's slim and delicate but real in his grasp. "Where's your brother?" He whispers.

Jellybean frowns, arching a delicate dark eyebrow. "Non-existant? Did you drink last night?" She laughs at his expression. "I told you not to. You're a complete light weight.  _I_ could outdrink you."

FP can't breathe. He steadies himself on the counter as his mind races. He knows now, what this is. This is the Gargoyle King keeping his promise. He's taken Jughead and now it's like the damn game never existed, and if it never existed- FP never became a Serpent. FP went to college. FP never  _failed_ the way he failed in reality. JB's hand rests on his back and she pats him worriedly. 

"Let me make you some coffee, dad," she says comfortingly. "Good thing it's Saturday." 

He manages to haul himself into one of the stools and watches as she potters around the kitchen. Everything's slotting into place now, and he can see his memories, his new memories. He sees himself getting a sports scholarship to college and mastering in Business. He runs Jones construction with Fred. He married a woman who died in childbirth, and he and Jellybean are best friends. He lives on the Northside. He's everything he ever wanted to be. He's a good dad- he can see a tirade of memories of him and Jellybean high-fiving and watching old movies together and him just being there for her. 

He can see all these memories, and he knows they're his, but he also feels like a stranger watching a film. This isn't what happened. It could have been. But it isn't. Jellybean slides him some coffee and he takes it; fingers shaking. 

She's wearing an s tee and pink flannel pants. 

She doesn't have a brother. 

"I..." he shakes his head, taking a sip and letting the caffeine work through his system. "I think I need..."

"You need to talk to Fred," Jellybean says wisely, picking her phone back up and going back to scrolling as she begins to head out of the kitchen. "You are totally out of it. Go to Fred. I also want Pop's tonight! Three burgers please."

FP watches her go, just as he's greeted to the memories of him and Fred. They're best friends. He and Fred had gone to college together; roomed together, come up with their ideas together. Fred lived opposite him. He snatches a coat off the rack and heads out the front door and sure enough, he's on the street that Fred lives in, in actual reality. 

He has a stunning house on the Northside, on the evergreen laced street and the beautiful part of town. He marches across the street and bangs on the door, and is frozen again when Archie greets him. The sight of such a familiar face has him hauling him in for a hug. The redhead looks exactly the same. Tall, strong, smiley. "Hey, Uncle FP," Archie laughs, more comfortable and familiar with him then FP has ever thought possible. And  _Uncle._ Archie leaves the door open and heads inside. "Dad's in the kitchen."

FP walks through the Andrew's house. It's just the same as it was, and there's Fred sitting at the kitchen table, eating toast and looking happy. "Hey, FP. Apparently they're having a sale down at the Warehouse, do you wanna go check it out?" 

"Fred," he whispers, because they were best friends and they still are, and FP's missed him so much. 

The brunet rolls his eyes and gets up to pour a glass of water. "I told you not to drink so much last night. You don't have the tolerance for it." He hands him the water and FP gulps it down. 

This is...this is  _nice._ This is Jellybean, and a godson, and Fred Andrews as his best friend. He's getting memories of Archie's christening, of asking Fred to be godfather. He's remembering Mary's funeral, and giving the speech as best man at their wedding. He's remembering a grief he never felt over his own wife's death, and the way Fred had been there for him. It's another life. It's a...it's a better life. "I think I might be coming down with something." He says carefully, and watches as Fred looks concerned. 

"Damn. Okay, well take it easy, FP, and if you can't make Monday, hell, we're the boss so we're not gonna care." He grins, and he look so young, and FP isn't sure what to make of it all. 

His old body used to crave alcohol as a familiar dull ache that lasted most of the day. This body doesn't do that.

He stays with Fred till lunch, and then goes home- only to pause at the glossy car in his driveway. He takes it for a spin around the Northside. Everything looks pretty much the same. He drives to the Construction Company that he and Fred own and checks to see if it matches his memories. It does. It's successful and he likes working here. He gets nods and smiles from people just before his new brain tells him who they are and how he knows them and that they  _like_ him. He spends hours just parked outside Riverdale High and staring at it. 

When it starts to get dark, he remembers that Jellybean wanted Pop's for dinner, and so he drives to the Diner. 

Pop nods at him with a friendly smile as FP opens his mouth to speak, but- "Your usual?" Pop chuckles, already flipping the patties on the grill. FP nods with his own small smile. "Your girl seems to have a bottomless pit for a stomach," he says lightly, "not that I'm complaining."

Ice runs through FP's veins. Pop- his Pop, the real one- had once made the exact same joke about Jughead. FP looks around the diner, looks to the very booth that his son used to write at. Cuddled into the red vinyl and typing away. Instead of his son however, he sees Reggie Mantle, nursing a black eye and staring sadly into his milkshake. 

FP's no fool. He knows that was probably Marty's doing. 

But he suddenly remembers slamming Jughead against the wall. He remembers gripping his face too hard in his strong hands. He remembers the guilt and the fear and the shame of becoming his dad when it was all he wanted not to be. He remembers being drunk all the time. He remembers the humiliation of standing outside of a police station and watching Fred offer his son a better life, a better situation, and then the victory when Jughead had come home with  _him_ anyway. 

His son picked him. His son always had his back. 

His son doesn't exist.

He drives home-  _home-_ in a daze. To the nice house on the nice street in the nice part of town. Jellybean snatches the bag from his hand eagerly and digs out a burger; devouring it. He sits beside her on the sofa because he knows from memory's sake they do this. They watch television, and he has all the channels. He can afford all the channels. It's such high definition, and the burgers are just as good as he remembered, and he keeps lifting the sleeve of his shirt because there's no Serpent tattoo there. 

Jellybean falls asleep after eating four burgers (FP had happily given her one of his), and he carries her upstairs even though she's probably too old for it, because he hasn't carried his daughter to bed in years and he never thought he'd get the chance to again. 

He finds her room easily enough, his brain happily offering the information, and he sets her down on the bed. She's so light, and he covers her with the thick blankets and looks around. There are film posters framed all over the walls; a vinyl record player and a stack of albums. There's a band plastered all over her clothes, a little jewellery table, and on her mirror- a dozen pictures of her and her friends. FP doesn't recognise any of them, but Jellybean looks happy and normal. 

The  _Pulp Fiction_ poster catches his attention and he can't look away. It's the same poster Jughead had. The one he'd carry around from place to place when he didn't have somewhere to live. For all his sensibleness, his intelligence, and knowing to pack economically, lightly, he'd still carried that poster everywhere. The real FP hadn't been able to give his boy a home. This FP has given his daughter a stunning house, a lovely bedroom, and everything she could possibly want. 

Had it all been a result of the Gargoyle King, then? He's never so much as yelled at his daughter in this universe, not the way he had to Jughead. He's never kicked chairs or broken things or slammed her up against walls. He's been  _good._

This FP puts the real one to shame. He kisses her forehead and ducks out quietly, just standing in the dark hallway and trying to keep it together. 

He goes to bed and dreams of Jughead. He dreams of the way they'd mocked Hiram together, the way he'd snorted when Jughead had been rude and snide to Keller. He dreams of the way Jughead had smiled when he'd seen FP clean shaven and ready for work. 

He wakes up to Jellybean's pancakes, and her irritation to the way they've cancelled one of her favourite shows. 

* * *

 

About a week into his new, perfect life, FP is pretty comfortable.

He sees his son everywhere and in everything, but there's so much good in this universe it's hard to reconcile it all. Jellybean is the light of his life, he and Fred have lunch together, Archie comes to him for advice, and he's a respected member of the community. He has money, and he has a job, and he doesn't keep a drop of liquor in the house. He drives a big car and wears nice clothes and picks his daughter up from school. 

Archie treats Jellybean like his little sister, and Fred and FP always smile softly when they see the two of them together. 

FP dimly remembers Archie pleading with Jughead to stay at his house. 

He tries not to. 

He tries to box up those old memories like a bad dream and keep focused here on the now and how good everything is. 

He's making dinner one night, stir fry with a lot of vegetables because he cooks in this universe and he loves it, when Jellybean enters the kitchen with a groan. She places her top-of-the-line mac on the counter and opens it with a sigh. He grins at her, tossing in a few more carrots. "What's wrong, girl?"

She enters her password sluggishly. "It's a stupid English assignment. I hate creative writing."

FP's accosted with images. Reading Jughead's manuscript, the way his son had smiled when FP said he liked it, the articles for the  _BlueandGold,_ he remembers the sound of Jughead's fingers on keys and how as a boy, his son had always had a book tucked under his arm. "You don't like writing at all?" He asks, trying to keep his voice light when actually he wants to throw up his lunch. 

"Ugh, no," she whines, "it's gross and boring. I want to be a musician. Like Archie. We're gonna start a band." 

"Fred and I were in a band," he says, almost instinctively. Jellybean laughs and rolls her eyes. 

"I know, dad. You've only said it like a billion times." She tugs the beanie off her head. FP stares. Her roots are the dark raven that his and Jughead's were. She has a little curl to them too, just like Jughead has. Had.

FP doesn't feel so good. 

He keeps it together for the rest of the night, but when he's in his room he hurls up his dinner and stares at his reflection. He's been forgetting his son. What the fuck is wrong with him? He tries desperately to remember him now. All the little details. The memories come, but they're harder to dredge up. Like something at the bottom of a pool, sunk and just out of reach. 

 _Stop looking. Let go._ Comes a voice.

FP nearly screams. Fuck-fuck, it's the Gargoyle King, it's making him forget. It's making him forget his son, his son- and he can't- he won't. 

He rushes out of the bedroom, tiptoeing past JB's door and heads out to his car. This world is perfect, absolutely perfect bar one thing, and that's the snarky idiot he had. The brilliant boy who caught murderers and exposed criminals. He wants both his children. 

In this universe, he could only ever have one. 

He drives to the Southside, and gets a few cruel looks from people he would have once considered friends. He has to ask around before someone points him in the direction of Alice's trailer. He bangs on the door with his fist, and she opens it; pure surprise on her face.

She looks like Alice. Different, but her. With her curly hair and dark eyes and fishnet tights and leather. "FP Jones," she purrs, composing herself. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" 

He's not here for Alice. "Where's Betty?" 

Alice blinks, surprised again. "Why?" 

He slams his foot against the door so it makes a horrible banging sound. She doesn't jump, but she does appear to take him more seriously. "Don't play fucking games with me Alice, this is important. Where is Betty?" 

Alice swallows thickly, shaking her head. She smells a little of alcohol. "Well, she's not here." She manages. "She...she left..." sadness brims into her eyes and FP tries to temper the urge to yell. He knows what it feels like to have a kid who would rather be homeless than live with you. 

"Do you have any idea where she might be?" He pushes, trying to keep his voice a little soft. 

She nods, sniffling a little. "With the Lodges, probably. Polly always goes to the Blossoms, but Betty...Betty always go to-"

FP's already walking away. 

As he drives to the even more expensive part of town, he thinks to what the Lodges are like in this reality. They never left Riverdale, and Hiram is an investment banker. He's never been to prison, and whilst he's not a saint, he's not a criminal either. FP's seen this Veronica- still classy and sophisticated, but a bit more small-town, only a handful of times. This Veronica and Archie aren't an item. 

He parks and there's valet, but he ignores it in favour of storming into the building. 

Smithers smiles at him. It's a little disconcerting that one second FP looks at someone and sees a stranger, and then his memories come up at a one second lag, supplying him with all the information he needs. "Mr Jones," Smithers nods, "may I help you with something?"

"I need to see Betty. Betty Cooper. Is she here?" 

"Do you mean Betty Smith, sir?"

"Smi- yes. Yes. Sorry."

He paces the lobby as Smithers makes the call. Alice had aborted their child, and then had two with Hal Cooper. They'd never gotten married though. He'd married a Northsider and Alice had been stuck with two daughters and no money and a lot of broken promises. This reality isn't so perfect after all. He doesn't know how they're going to do this but he knows he needs Betty. Betty and Jughead, they have something, he's seen it, something that transcends the shitty reality of Riverdale. Something better. Something purer. Something a lot like love.

He turns when someone clears their throat and he's winded by the appearance of Betty Coo- Smith.

She looks exactly the same. 

She's wearing a pastel sweater and her hair is in a neat ponytail and she's smiling very politely. "Mr Jones," she nods, wringing her hands. "Did you get my application for work experience at your company?"

He stares at her. She looks exactly the same. It twists something rough inside him. Maybe you are more than your background. Maybe if you want to be a good person, you can be a good person regardless of where you come from. Betty's a Southsider and yet here she is with a friendly smile and her kind blue eyes.

She's above it all. Just like Jughead. Jughead, who could be so bad and so wrong, who was always so good and so kind. They've risen above it. FP couldn't do it, Alice clearly hasn't, but the two of them- they've risen above it. 

"Betty," he whispers, "I need you to get in my car with me. I have a lot to say and you might think I'm crazy and if at the end you don't want to help me, that's fine. I'll drop you back here. If you do want to help me, then...then maybe we can figure this all out." He wonders briefly whether or not she might pepper-spray him. He's trying to lure her to his car after all, but his standing is better than he thought, because she worries her bottom lip for a moment, before nodding, and following him outside. 

* * *

 

"I can't believe he asked me to be his queen. He must really love me, huh?" Betty asks, a pleased smile in her voice.

FP grips the steering wheel tightly. "Yes. More than I thought it was possible for two people to love each other. But aside from the love thing, Betty-"

"Oh, I believe you, Mr Jones." She says, and he feels something loosen in his heart. "I completely believe you. There's something wrong with Riverdale. Sometimes I feel this darkness, or I think I see something out of the corner of my eye but there's nothing there. But hearing your story just now? I don't think you're crazy. I don't think you made it up. I think you're a father trying to save their son." She nods. "I want to help. Especially if..." She smiles again, a small blush on her face. "Especially if he loves me so much."

FP chuckles with relief. "So much, Betty."

Betty licks her lips and smiles. "What does he look like? Is he...is he..."  _handsome,_ goes unsaid. 

FP's driving them towards the forest. They don't have a plan yet, but he has a gun and he wants to find an antelope. He'd told Betty  _everything._ Everything he could, and it had taken three hours in a condensed form. And he can understand now, why she's as brilliant as Jughead always said she was. She's bright, attentive, and  _clever_ in a way that you can't just get from books. She's different and perceptive, just like Jughead and they  _fit._ They fit together. They're soulmates. "He's tall, skinny, with black hair and green eyes. He doesn't smile a lot, Betty, but he always smiles with you." 

She beams, excited and eager for a person who doesn't exist to be the love of her life. 

They get to the edge of the forest and are about to head into the trees when a loud voice stops them in their tracks. "What the  _hell,_ dad?" Jellybean yells, holding a torch and a little out of breath. Her hair is tucked completely into her beanie and she's still in her pyjamas. "I have been looking for you for hours!" She shines the torch onto Betty and looks flummoxed. "Is that...is that Alice's daughter? What is happening?"

FP walks over to her and wraps his daughter in his arms. He holds her as tightly as he can because he's not sure how many chances he'll get. "You have to trust me, baby," he whispers, "there's a lot more going on here than you know. You should go home, you should-"

"Yeah right," Jellybean snorts, looking between the two of them. "I'm not going anywhere."

She sounds just like Jughead.

"Okay then," Betty smiles, summoning bravery. "We're going to go into the forest, start a fire, kill an antelope, draw the ruin and try to summon the devil." FP feels like she's got it all under control and he feels a little better. 

Jellybean gapes. 

But it appears that she's just as brilliant as Betty. She's filled in on a very diluted version very quickly, and she just nods, looking a little conflicted at times, but she doesn't argue. She takes it in stride with a maturity beyond her years and helps gather firewood. FP takes them to as close to the area where his son was taken as he remembers, and they start building a pit. They're playing it by ear, really, and he's not sure what they're going to do if doesn't work. He takes his gun and heads out towards the river.

A sleeping antelope is nestled by a tree. 

It's so easy, it's like...it's like a sign. 

He shoots it in the head, and drags its body through the forest to where the fire has been started. Betty and Jellybean are tossing dry leaves onto it to get it really going, and they nod at him when he's back. "Okay," he pants, his arms aching. The full moon shines above them and they're all a little streaked with mud. "What do we do now? Who do I..." who does he draw the ruin on? He sure as hell won't do it on Jellybean, and he glares at her when she opens her mouth to volunteer. "No. I am not losing you. I can't."

Jellybean looks sad, cast in the oranges and reds of the fire. "You're going to, though. If this works, you'll get him back and I'll be..."

Betty looks away, and FP feels tears forming. "I am not choosing him over you." He vows, and Jellybean trembles like a leaf. "I want you both, together, JB. He doesn't  _exist_ in this world. He doesn't even exist, but you do in that one. He loves you so much- he carries this photo of you two together and he...and he..."

Jellybean hugs her dad tight and nods. "Okay, dad." She weeps. "Okay. Go get my brother back."

FP draws the ruin on himself. Betty and Jellybean wrap their arms around each other and the fire crackles and flares up into the sky, billowing smoke angrily. Nothing else happens for a long moment, and FP can feel the sticky traces of blood, hot and uncomfortable, trickling down his face. And then suddenly, something creaks in the woods. The three of them whip around to peer into the darkness. 

FP staggers towards it, brandishing his gun. He fires a warning shot into the sky. "Give me back by son!" He yells, his throat shaking at the volume. There's another creak, before a thump and then a figure comes rolling towards them on the ground. 

It's Jughead.

He falls to his knees, staring. There's his son. Beanie and jacket and all. He's more blood than skin from what FP can see, but the place on his forehead where the ruin had been is clean. 

"Juggie!" Betty cries, rushing to join them and FP stares because gone is the pink sweater she was wearing and in its place is a serpent jacket. He whirls around, but Jellybean isn't by the fire anymore. Cheryl, Toni, Fangs, Sweet Pea and other young Serpents are. Jellybean is gone. 

FP tries not to collapse at the grief, as he cradles his son into his arms and lifts him up. Jughead twitches a little, he makes a small sound and his eyes blink open. FP stares down at him with joy and Jughead manages a weak grin. "Hey, dad," he mutters painfully. "Long time no see." He twists a little, and reaches out his hand and Betty twines their fingers. "Betty," he whispers, like a caress, and she's crying as she runs alongside FP's stride. 

"Juggie," she sobs back.

* * *

Betty and FP sit next to each other in Jughead's hospital room as he rests. He's been cleaned up and he looks...not  _okay,_ but better once all the blood was gone. He looks like he can heal. Betty's still holding his hand and FP is watching the reassuring beep of the monitor. "How did you get to the woods, Betty?" He asks, and she turns to him with a frown. 

"What do you mean? I came with you on the motorbike."

A few shifts here and there, then, okay, FP can deal with it. At least it's reality. He has his son back and Jellybean...Jellybean is somewhere out there. He needs her back. He wants his kids back together. 

He wants him and Fred to be friends again. He wants he and Alice to make another try of things. Better, healthier this time. He wants...he wants a lot of things he's not sure it's possible to have. But one thing he's never going to give up on, is getting Jughead and Jellybean back together. He never should have let them get parted. He'll never forgive himself for it. Not ever. And now there might be darkness hanging over Riverdale for the rest of their lives, impeding happiness at every turn but-

Betty and Jughead have each other, and they seem to be the key to it all. 

So for now, FP rests. 

 

He's woken by the low, throaty croak of his son. "Dad?" Jughead mumbles, and FP scrambles to sit up, relief coursing through his veins. Betty's gone, he assumes home now, and he shuffles over to take his son's hand. "Is everyone- is everything okay?"

"It's...you're gonna be okay," he says instead. "You're gonna be okay, Jug." 

Jughead frowns, obviously still in pain. "But the sacrifice..."

"I took the sacrifice back." FP says, and Jughead stares at him with wide eyes. "I wasn't letting him take you, Jug. I took you back. There was no sacrifice." 

" _Dad,_ " Jughead says again, a smile on his face, and his fingers curl around his dad's hand. FP stares at him, not understanding. "There was a sacrifice.  _You_ made the sacrifice. You had the ruin on your head before it all happened, remember? You pressed our heads together.  _You_ made the sacrifice. You gave up that life. He's gone." Jughead laughs, a little watery and content. "You saved us."

No one's ever said those words to him before, and he breathes deeply, shaking with excitement at the prospect that it might be true. "Do you think?" He asks, "do you think it's over?" 

Jughead squeezes his hand. "You saved us." He says again, and FP laughs so hard he begins to cry. 

* * *

A long time later, FP gets to watch as Jellybean and Betty are introduced.

He just wants to wrap Jellybean up in a hug, but he doesn't. She has the pink beanie and the pink hair and the green eyes, and she's dressed in plaid. She and Jughead had clicked back together immediately. They're inseparable now, really. And whilst Jellybean is still a little wary around FP, she smiles sometimes, and he gets her favourite burger order. Sometimes she even teases him. 

It's not going to be easy. But it's possible that someday...

Betty shakes her hand politely. "It's great to finally meet you, Jellybean," she says cheerfully. "Jughead and your dad talk about you all the time."

Jellybean nods, a little bit shyly. "Good to meet you too. Jughead never stops talking about you. And call me JB."

Jughead shoves her a little, and she shoves him right back, laughing. 

Betty nods, a curious look on her face. "You know it's weird," she says, "I have the weirdest feeling we've met before." 

FP watches as Jughead frowns and Jellybean cocks her head. "I don't know," the young girl shrugs, "you do look weirdly familiar-"

"How about I treat us all to lunch at Pops?" FP says, and smiles at how Jellybean and Jughead scramble over each other to rush for the door. He holds his arm out for Betty, more grateful for her than she'll ever know, and she takes it with a small smile. 

"Thank you, Mr Jones," she says quietly, and he wonders if someday, maybe

she'll call him dad. 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it lovelies! 
> 
> x


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